


Can I not like you for awhile ?

by scotchandwhitelies



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Dates, Bachelor Bucky, Idiots in Love, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Sam Wilson, M/M, Matchmaker Sam Wilson, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Romantic Comedy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotchandwhitelies/pseuds/scotchandwhitelies
Summary: A terminally ill Winnifred Barnes entrusts Sam Wilson to find the best wife possible for her son. Sam foolishly thinks accepting that mission and seeing his impossible best friend settle down will help him move on from his unspoken feelings. He’s wrong.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	Can I not like you for awhile ?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Sambucky "Bachelor Boys" AU because I love this romance book so fucking much.  
> Shout out to my boy Robert Pattinson who I stole the "Good ass and intelligence" expression from.  
> First chapter is way longer than I intended but happy reading anyway y'all.

“A good ass and intelligence, Wilson. That's as far as I'm willing to compromise."

Sam rolls his eyes at the comment, an exasperated sigh escaping him as Bucky's eyes linger on a stack of photographs. Even the tray he's been holding feels heavier now, as if the thing was sagging its own shoulders at Bucky Barnes’s arrogant ass.

 _Why are we even friends again_?, he muses while he noisily places his burden on top of the coffee table. The other man doesn't even flinch at the hard thump, cigarette tucked between his plump lips as he lazes about on Sam's sofa.

"I thought you stopped smoking last month", Sam grits as he takes a glass of lemonade from the tray before taking seat next to Bucky.

"That's before I knew you and my ma were plottin' behind my back like two backstabbing bitches in a period drama."

"Hey. Don’t talk about your mom like that", Sam says.

He has a serious soft spot for Winnifred Barnes. This woman saved his life by taking him under her wing when his own parents failed him after his coming out. And he would have never become friends with her idiot son without her help.

Bucky shoots him an ironic glare. Discards the pictures on the table like he's just lost a card game. Sam's gaze falls to the scattered photographs, each of them depicting a woman between 19 and 30. And though he's the one who put the ad in the local news, Sam feels a pinch at his chest. _Jealousy_. Bucky is no marriage material anyway. He's a manwhore who still lives at his mother's home and spends most days smelling like liquor and cigarette. But his mother is ill, her time is limited and she wants to make sure someone is taking care of her son before she dies. Someone to mend his clothes and put meals together for him. Probably give him a few kids down the line too.

That antiquated notion of wifely duties is some fat bullshit to Sam and he said so to Winnie back when she entrusted him with this silly yet grave mission: find his son someone to settle with before leukemia wins the fight.

"I know my son is not the man he is meant to be yet, Sammy. But I'm sure he will become that man for the right person", she said. Sam didn't have it in him to say Bucky doesn't deserve to have a sweet wife whose heart he will no doubt break faster than a blink by doing some stupid shit. Sam didn't say a word about her son currently entertaining himself by fucking a married neighbor either. It's actually not Bucky's first rodeo. Years ago, Sam walked in on him pumping away between their PE teacher's legs on graduation day. He's ashamed to consider he was jealous back then too.

"Sam...", a raspy voice says, breaking him from his line of thoughts. He turns to catch Bucky's eyes watching him with intensity. His blue eyes bearing that metallic glint which always flashes when he has a really bad idea. It makes Sam freeze every time. His treacherous heart bangs just a little harder.

"What ?", he says, hoping Bucky doesn't notice how high his voice sounded just now. Swallowing hard at the way the other man slicks back his unruly hair. Sam's hands are dying, almost buzzing with the need to cope a satiny feel of those thick chocolate strands. Bucky bends to put down the frail end of his cigarette, right against one of the plates Sam wanted to use to serve dessert.

"Man, you're a shit guest", Sam grumbles, his following recriminations dying when Bucky shifts closer. He smells like smoke, clean sweat and the soap he borrowed from Sam earlier. The smell is just mouthwatering.

"Why are you so eager to get me married ?"

Sam freezes. Forces himself to level with his friend's intense silver blues. The reason is simple. The sooner Bucky settles down, the better Sam gets to move on.

"I made a promise", he gruffs, "And you could use someone to look after you. _You're hopeless_."

Bucky's mouth twitches with a faint smile.

"I'm getting by", he says. Sam lifts his eyes to the ceiling. Bucky better not get into another art manifesto about acting. He has not booked a single acting gig for ages and keeps refusing the few offers for humble commercials. That's why the prodigal son is back living with his mother in their small town after years spent chasing dreams in New York. To think Bucky was actually supposed to study law there but still ended breaking the rules never fails to amuse Sam

"You should find a real job, man", he sighs, sounding more gentle than usual so there's not any bite to his words of advice this time. It's a late summer evening and scorching hot, the windows are open and there’s echoing sounds of happy yelping and the languid grating of a guitar filling the air. Sam wants to be nice somewhat. Bucky doesn't.

"That's very rich coming from the town's new sob sister", he grits.

" _Excuse me_ ?"

"Your work consists of responding to mail from grown folks who either can't keep their useless marriages together or can’t grow enough balls to ask someone out for drinks. Hate to break it to you buddy but I've seen harder jobs."

“How do you know that ?”, Sam growls.

Bucky eloquently points his chin at Sam’s laptop, which is open on a message Sam was losing brain cells over.

“Glad to know putting your nose in other people’s business is now your official trademark, Sam.”

" _I'm a journalist_. The love advice column is just a side mission I have to cover because Rachel Summers is on maternity leave. Besides, it keeps my bills paid and my belly full. Can you say the same, mama’s boy ?”

Bucky glares hard but Sam ignores him by sipping on his lemonade, teeth angrily biting at the straw in a frail attempt to cool down. Bucky yanks the straw away from his own glass before lifting his glass ironically.

"That's how grown folks drink. Without straws", he chides before bringing the lemonade to his mouth. He can be so childish. They both can. Sam doesn't know what force beckons him to shoot an unimpressed glare at Bucky. He arches a brow for good measure. Flicks his tongue along the straw.

"Oh sorry. I've been single for a while. I miss having something in my mouth", he taunts deliberately, before sucking the citrusy water in his mouth. Sam doesn't miss the way Bucky's face darkens somewhat.

He's always been like this ever since Sam came out. Confused as to why another man could live the rest of his life without missing breasts. Slightly uncomfortable or awkward on the few times Sam brought his boyfriends to meet him. Especially with Steve but Sam figures the awkwardness stems from the fact Steve was one of Bucky’s best friends. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then and Bucky has come around eventually. And Sam keeps things casual these days. Just the occasional hook ups without strings attached.

Bucky just looks miffed right now. Positively miffed.

"Don’t look at me like that", Sam grunts, "It's not like you’re not getting plenty with your married girlfriend."

"I called it off", Bucky clips, looking away. But his long arms are still stretched. Sam shudders as he feels the skin of his neck grazing Bucky's hairs.

"Really ?", he croaks.

"You're the one who told me to."

Sam stills.

"Yeah. This is the appropriate thing to do. I didn't think you'd actually follow my advice, Buck."

He pats on his Bucky's knee then. "Good job."

His smile slowly fades when the other man catches his wrist, fingers curling around it so that when Sam tugs to pull away, his hand stays put.

"Uhm... Buck ?"

"Yes"

"Your-your hand."

"What's wrong with it ?"

 _Everything_ , Sam wants to scream. Bucky's hands are big. He has long pale fingers and trimmed nails which belong on piano keys, though Bucky has not played any ever since his father died. Those hands of his have been invading Sam's late night musings for years. He's wondered about what they would feel like. The loud slaps they could print on his bottom. How soft these strong fingers would feel as he clamps tight around them.

"There's nothing wrong with your hand. I just want mine back."

"Why ?", Bucky grits, brows furrowing. Their eyes lock. Something tingles in Sam's loins.

"Cause we need to study those girls. There’s some more letters to go through. I'm gonna need my hand for that, man", he lets out with a feeble chuckle. But his eyes are begging. Begging for Bucky to stop lest Sam get any bad ideas.

" _Please_ ", he says, looking down on both of their hands. Instead of releasing him, Bucky flicks his wrist to have his palm upwards, his left hand chasing Sam's fingers as it spreads open before giving a gentle squeeze. There. Bucky has laced their fingers. Just like that.

Sam's heart thuds hard. He releases a shaky breath. Turns his head to look at the beautiful line of Bucky's profile. Notices the faint blush on his ears and cheeks as Bucky stares ahead.

"Buck-"

"I will let go soon. Just let me indulge. I...I need this. The support."

"Okay...", Sam drawls, looking away because his head is swimming in happy hormones and he's getting as dizzy as a schoolgirl after a kiss from their crush. The last time they held hands was on the day of Bucky's father funeral. And before that, there's a distant elementary school memory of Sam having to escort Bucky to the toilets because he was such a crybaby and everyone knew they were neighbors.

There's nothing little about Bucky anymore. He's all man now. Tall and broad shouldered, body knotted with thick muscles that make any shirt look the wrong size on him. Sam wants him so fucking much. All of his perfect imperfections. All of it.

His eyes linger on thick thighs for a small moment. Snap back up when Bucky watches him again with something wistful.

"How do you really feel about this, Sammy ? Be honest."

"What do you mean ?"

"Me marrying someone to pacify my ma...I know how bad she's hurting. She tries to hide it from me but she’s losing her appetite. And that thing keeps her awake at night. I don't wanna lose her..."

Sam breathes a little less when Bucky's head softly falls to his shoulder. When fingers squeeze his tight and his heart speeds up again.

"I don't wanna lose her either...", he rasps.

Bucky sighs. His voice gets hoarse.

"Six months."

"What ?"

"That's how long Sharon says she’ll live. She came to check in this morning and - _Six fuckin' months…_ "

Bucky’s voice cracks on the last words. Sam's body tenses with anticipatory grief as he watches his friend bury his face into his broad palms. Winnie doesn't deserve to die. Not like this. She's the sweetest substitute mother Sam could have ever fathomed. She's home. A world without her silliness and bubbling laughter is unthinkable.

The photographs and stack of letters stay spread out on the coffee table.

“So this is why you’re okay with this ?”, Sam whispers, “You really think she’s gonna die…”

Bucky nods a quiet, heartbreaking ‘Yeah’ before clearing his throat. Then he stands up from the couch. Paces the room like a caged lion, fists resting on his hips.

“How are we gonna do this ?”

Sam picks up a picture then. It shows an asian woman posing right next to a horse, smiling from ear to ear though she's covered in mud.

"Well, we have to finish reading the letters first. After that, your lousy ass picks the candidates you prefer. I'll let everyone know and schedule some dates then", Sam drawls. There's a dark part of him which almost relishes in Bucky having to go through all these trials. He has never put any effort in a relationship. His specialty is fleeting about from flower to flower. He usually plucks some like a selfish child in a meadow and discards them when he loses patience or interest.

"I trust your judgement, Sam. Just remember what I said. A good ass and intelligence."

Sam watches him pick up his car keys and leather jacket in silence.

"Sure. Let's forget any semblance of humanness and go straight for the goods. Want me to ask about their measurements while you're at it ?", he snarks.

Bucky smiles something wolfish as he lights up another cigarette, all traces of vulnerability gone as he inhales slowly. He puffs smoke out with an arched brow. The gesture is so sexy Sam's stomach does a flip.

"Whatever it takes. If your scheming has to get me inside a church again, it better be with a hottie", he grins.

Sam doesn't even bother replying to that.

* * *

_Dear Rachel,_

_There’s this very charming guy at work who keeps making moves on me. Problem is I’m twenty years older than him and my husband died only a year ago._

_I’ve never felt so attracted to someone before but I’m also scared of what people would think._

_I really don’t know what to do. Please, help me._

“This one’s quite tricky”, Winnie says, dangerously leaning over Sam’s shoulder while holding a steaming mug of rooibos tea. Her tone manages to be both slightly disapproving and fascinated.

The familiar tune of his fingers tapping against the keys stops when Sam’s attention drifts away from his laptop. 

He arches a brow, sits as far back as he can in the brown bench they're both lounging on, at a front porch bathed in summer light. 

“Why is that ?”

“Come on, Sammy. Twenty years age difference ? A widow ? You’re a romantic but this is too much even for you.”

“Georges was older than you _._ ”

Winnie hides her face away by taking a sip of her drink.

“By thirteen years. Still less than twenty. Not everyone on this earth needs a …what do you youngsters call this again ? A slutty decade ?”

“First of all, it’s _hoe phase_. And your internalized misogyny is showing again. Careful.”

Sam says it without any bite. Winnie is a fundamentally good woman. He’s always known her with a brash tongue and sometimes, that tongue wreaks havoc before she can really think it through. It’s truly a sight to behold when it happens. Sam’s seen it with his own father, when Winnie gave him a piece of her mind for his misgivings, after Sam came out. It breaks his heart every time to see her look so frail, as if her own clothes are trying to swallow her whole.

She shivers and wraps her cardigan tighter around her then.

“We can go back inside if you want to”, Sam offers.

Winnie shakes her head. “I’ve been inside all day while the rest of you guys get to enjoy summer properly. It’s like being an orphan kid in a Charles Dickens novel staring at a pastry through a window.”

Sam chuckles at that.

“You always do what you want. Why wouldn’t you tell this woman the same thing ?”

Winnie gets a wistful look. It's quiet suddenly. His eyes wander to the intense blooms of coral pink coneflowers, her favorite because it attracts birds and butterflies. Sam thinks he has not felt this peaceful for a long time.

“It’s just being a widow to such a good husband, I guess. You feel like you owe it to them. When George died, it felt like my whole world was crashing down. I couldn’t see myself making love to anyone else knowing he’d be buried six feet under. I still can’t”, she says, staring ahead.

Then she turns her head to look at him again.

“That sounds really romantic”, Sam smiles.

Winnie rolls her eyes. “And awfully boring. There’s nothing cute about sexual despair.”

“Woah. I really didn’t expect that. TMI”, he huffs with playfulness.

“Hush you. I’m still a woman with needs”, she says, tilting her head to fix the yellow butterfly adorning her already extravagant headscarf. But her fingers are trembling and Sam can’t help but stand up to give help, though he knows she hates it when her illness makes her look weak.

A part of him that is incredibly offended that this amazing woman didn’t get another shot at happiness again. Sometimes he doesn’t like the sense of ownership that comes with love. Not in this perspective. People should be allowed to find love again even after their spouses die. And yet there’s another part of him, the lizard brain perhaps, which longs for such a fierce and loyal relationship. A love so beautiful it transcends time and death. He craves it deep down.

“Thank you”, Winnie tells him, lightly tapping against the accessory when Sam draws back to look at his work. She’s bald underneath all that, a dark voice says in his mind.

Sam jams his hands in his pockets, trying to repel somber thoughts.

“You’re welcome. Need any more tea or anything? I’m gonna take my laptop back inside”, he says.

She shakes her head. “I told you to stop mothering me, young man. Just be quick and come back here to drop the juice about my son.”

“ _Spill the tea_ ”, Sam corrects with a smile, even though the comment chews at his stomach.

“Whatever. I need to know more on that. He’s possibly gonna meet my future daughter in law this week.”

“Only if your useless son manages to behave like an adult for more than two hours.”

“Sammy, you’re too hard on him”, Winnie whines.

He snorts before going back inside. The entrance is bathed in light, which is enhanced by the bright yellow of the wallpaper. It serves as a long hallway which serves the main rooms of the house. The floor is covered with cement tiles which intricate patterns echoe the elegance of ancient Chinese potteries. He wonders if Winnie knows one of them is actually a replacement from the time Bucky used to play tennis inside the house.

“ _Useless son huh_ ”, a somber voice says.

Sam whips his head to find Bucky pressed against the kitchen’s threshold. The sight almost makes him lose his laptop and he has to hold on tight.

Bucky’s broad arms are crossed over his chest. He’s barefoot and still dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel. Sam feels heat flocking to his ears at the way the towel hugs this man’s narrow hips. The fuzzy trail of hair below his navel lengthens like an arrow pointing at a place Sam has no right to think about.

It’s a long game of being dishonest he’s been playing for years. He thinks he’s an even better performer than Bucky for putting on the act so long. That’s a lifetime commitment at this point.

“I said what I said”, he snarks.

Bucky snorts and draws close under Sam’s suspicious gaze. Sam chooses to deflect to put down the embers of want and need.

“You need to cut your hair”, he says; chin pointing at Bucky’s brown locks. They fall long past his shoulders now and they look entirely too luscious.

Bucky frowns and tucks one strand in between his fingers.

“Why would I do that ?”

“No respectable man wears that hair. You look like the fourth Bee Gees.”

“That’s fuckin’ disrespectful.”

“I agree _. Lose the hair_.”

Sam round his friend to get to the the living room, a strange place mixing industrial furniture and some eighteenth century spirit.

He settles his laptop on the large table. Turns around to find Bucky watching him intently again. The intensity of those eyes force Sam to take support on one of the cane chairs. Just one hand on the back the chair to remind himself there’s more to the room than Bucky Barnes.

“You think those gals will like me more with a haircut ?”

“Probably. It will at least make you look less high maintenance than you are.”

“Fuck you, Wilson. You’re just jealous of my follicular superiority”, he says with a smile.

Sam grins. “Don’t be mad. You can at least keep the beard.”

Bucky’s hand reaches to scratch his chin then.

“God, I can’t even remember the last time I got a haircut.”

Sam does but he keeps it to himself. Bucky started trading styles after his father’s death. George Barnes was a military vet. As progressive as he stood on some issues, short hair for men was always a non-negotiable requirement for him.

“Well, if you can’t remember, this definitely means you need one. Set up an appointment before Friday comes. Emma Frost works at the bank. She’ll enjoy a well-groomed man.”

“ _Fuck_. Do you think she actually want to see me in a suit ? Man, I don’t do suits.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to go that far. You guys are just meeting in a bar after work. Chill.”

“Thank God. But there’s no way I’m going to a hair salon”, he grunts.

“Why not ? You plan on chopping all that off by yourself ?”

“No.”

Sam tilts his head in confusion. A sly grin breaks on Bucky’s face.

“I want you to do it for me.”

“You’re kidding, right ?”

Bucky lifts his shoulder in a half shrug then.

Sam searches his face for any trace of falsehood but the bastard is not lying. He’s actually considering this. Sam can’t believe the nerve and entitlement of that guy.

He lowers his head and kneads the line of his nose.

“ _Please, Sammy_ ”, Bucky rasps.

Sam hates the way his heartbeat speeds up then. He hopes the time when this man stops having an effect on him will come soon.

“I’m not a cosmetologist.”

“Between the two of us, which one started an underground hair salon once ?”

“That was in fourth grade _._ I just wanted more pocket money”, Sam splutters as heat prickles beneath his cheeks, “My skills have gone a little rusty since then.”

He shudders at the memory of being called into the Principal’s office for chopping a girl’s hair so bad she cried.

“Okay. If you won’t do it, no one will.”

“Are you actually a child ?”

“ _You guys are so loud_.”

They both turn around at the sound of Winnie’s scratchy voice. She gingerly steps closer, a fond smile curving her mouth.

“What’s going on ?”, she asks, looking for Sam by second nature because she knows he’s the most sensible one.

Sam gives Bucky a pointed look.

“Bucky doesn’t want to cut his hair.”

Winnie looks her son up and down. The weight of her scrutiny actually makes Bucky shift on his toes. Her power on him never fails to make Sam smile. To see that broad frame cower only in front of one woman. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep the mirth at bay.

“You should at least get a trim, James. No respectable man wears that hair.”

Sam guffaws in laughter and yelps when Bucky elbows him hard.

“I would be happy to do it like I used to but my hands are not the same”, Winnie says softly.

She throws a meaningful look at Sam then. His face goes blank at the not so subtle suggestion.

“Like I said _, I’m not a cosmetologist_. Wasn’t there when God gave the Gays the best grooming skills.”

“You were missing cause you slept through your alarm clock”, Bucky snarks.

“Stop it, you two. You’re giving me a headache.”

Both men stop running their mouths instantly. Sam still sneaks a mean glare at Bucky.

“Why don’t you guys go to the hairsalon together ? He doesn’t like to say it, Sam, but he really looks for your approval.”

“Ma…”, Bucky groans.

The comment makes Sam’s extremities tingle with pleasure. He can’t help the grin that spreads on his face.

“ _Is that so_ ?”, he says pointedly.

“It is. You guys go get ready, I’m gonna give Ida a call.”

“We’re not going to Ida’s salon”, Bucky grunts “I’d rather go bald. No, we’re going somewhere else.”

“She’s your aunt.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t wanna go. She still thinks I’m ten.”

Sam wakes up from his torpor enough to butt in.

“I usually go at Rhodey’s when I need to freshen up. It’s a quaint place and an hour drive from here but believe me when I say this man’s got _magic hands_.”

“Oh is that the military vet turned hairdresser ? I think I saw him on TV once”, Winnie says excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“Yeah, I _love_ him. Whatchu think, Buck ?”

Sam’s enthusiasm is met with a somber look on Bucky’s face. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Rhodey is really the best”, he insists.

He notices it then. The angry tick at Bucky’s jaw. Happens whenever he’s bothered with something.

“Maybe so”, Bucky drawls.

Then he bends to press a quick peck on Winnie’s cheek before leaving the room, throwing Sam a pointed glare over his shoulder. Sam exchanges a bewildered gaze with Winnie before jogging after his friend, who ignores his calls to slow down and rushes down the stairs that lead to the basement like a rocket.

Sam follows him and curses under his breath when his foot bumps into an old pizza box. He pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight of a greasy and moldy slice of pizza. The rest of the room bears slightly better if he ignores dirty clothes splayed haphazardly about and a dozen empty cans. Sam is itching to cleanse the entire place.

“ _Man, you really live like this_ ”, he says with a sorry expression, so disappointed he has to take support on the closest beam.

“Not everyone is a control freak”, Bucky counters as he angrily removes his towel, throwing it on an armrest while he disappears in his bedroom. Sam does his best to ignore his best friend has the kind of butt one would be lucky to dig a little teeth in.

“That’s not being a control freak. It’s just called having basic hygiene. This place is a pigpen. Send the biblical flood already.”

He’s about to scoff some more but Bucky’s head goes beyond the door frame to give him a warning look. Sam crosses his arms and waits until he puts something on to go on. Bucky comes back a few minutes later, buttoning up his trouser fly with difficulty, tongue curling out of his mouth. He huffs a harsh breath when he’s done and rests his fists on his hips. Sam watches the whole ordeal with puckered brows.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with Rhodey ?”

“I’m not letting your ex lover cut my hair, man.”

Sam blinks. Narrows his eyes at the other man.

“ _My ex lover_ ?”

“Yeah. What am I gonna look like when he’s done ? If he gets jealous ? _Professor X_ ?”

Bucky gets closer then. Sam looks at him as if he just lost his mind.

“Rhodey is not my…What gave you that idea ?”

Bucky snorts, affects to put on a high pitched voice that borders on a schoolgirl squeal. His hands frame his face and his eyelids droop in a parody of ecstatic joy.

“Ooooh. _He’s a magic man, Bucky_. Let him cut your hair with his _magic hands_.”

The imitation is so bad that Sam can’t contain a fit of giggles.

“I never said that, you dork”, he protests, biting off a grin.

“You did. Seems he really put a number on you”, Bucky groans, walking away to take his jacket off a hook in the wall.

He puts it on while he sizes Sam up. Sam gives a half shrug.

“You’re insane. Rhodey is just a friend and he is the best hairdresser in Vermont to me. But I’m not forcing your hand. If you wanna keep looking like Walmart Jesus, it’s up to you.”

Bucky pauses, takes a quick look at his full length mirror. _Vein ass_ , Sam thinks as the other man knots his hair into a loose bun.

“ _Walmart Jesus_ ”, Bucky says in disbelief, turning around, brows threatening to meet his hairline.

“Just saying. Some girls like the caveman look. _Some girls don’t_. Short hair is safe.”

Bucky gazes into his reflection once again. Sam can tell he’s already made his decision.

* * *

It takes them half an hour to get ready to go afterwards. Bucky refuses to leave the house before seeing his mother take her medication and checking all the locks.

Sam lets out a deep sigh when they finally get to seat inside Winnie’s sleek Subaru Forester. He fastens his seatbelt then proceeds to tell the first few directions at Bucky while his eyes roam the white picket fence neighborhood. Silence is the only reply he gets so he turns his head to find the other man more focused on a CD folder.

“What are you doing ?”

“There’s no road-trip without a soundtrack. What about Hairspray ? Seems rather fitting.”

“Except we’re not having a road-trip. Just start the car.”

“Earth, Wind and Fire ?”, Bucky says, looking deep in thoughts.

“Buck. Give me that and start the car. We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, Mr. Killjoy. Have at it.”

He hands Sam the CD folder before reaching for his own seat-belt. It’s not long before Sam finds the perfect song to start the ride.

Contrary to his beliefs, Bucky is actually an excellent driver. A very technical and laid back one, secure in his skills enough that he rests only one hand on the wheel most of the time.

“Why’d you choose that one ?”, Bucky says as they move beyond the diner at the far end of town and the scenery changes to provide sky reaching trees.

Sam grins and feigns not to know exactly what’s he’s talking about.

“Choose what.”

“The first song”, Bucky drawls, flicking Sam an ironic glance before focusing on the road again, “ _Trouble man_. Is that really what you think of me ?”

“It’s what you think of yourself”, Sam says with a smile. His answer earns him a skeptical hum.

Since Bucky’s eyes are locked on the road, Sam exploits the moment to study him. The straight line of his nose. The eternal pout of his mouth. He saves a few mental snapshots of that dark brown mane which is gonna disappear soon.

He has not seen Bucky with short hair since ages. Wonders how the result will come up. He muses about the style which could suit the other man best while _Inner City Blues_ fills the cabin. Something short around the ears and fluffier at the top maybe.

He’s thinking about side parts when Bucky speaks.

“Distant lover.”

Sam lifts his brows. “What about it ?”

“If someone asked me to choose a Marvin Gaye song to describe you. This would be it. For me.”

It seizes Sam like a punch to the gut. He blinks stupidly. Stares hard though Bucky won’t meet his questioning gaze.

“Why ?”, he asks then clears his throat because his voice sounds awfully high.

“You’re passionate and you’re distant”, Bucky deadpans.

“How’d you know about that ?”, Sam says, “It’s not like you ever dated me.”

He shuts his mouth after that. Presses his lips tight. Hopefully, Bucky doesn’t take notice of the resentment beneath his words because his last sentence sounded more like a recrimination than stating a fact. Thankfully, there’s a tight curve for Bucky to focus on and it leaves Sam with a little grace period.

It’s short lived.

“Well, as a friend, I know you can be distant.”

“We see each other all the time.”

“Not physically. There’s a limit to how close you let people get to you. Only close enough that you can still keep your eyes on the exit door. I’ve never seen you particularly chummy with one of your boy toys either.”

“First of all, I don’t do boy toys. I’m not like you. I don’t treat people like they’re disposable.”

“Please. _We’re the same_.”

“How ?”

The car stops at a crossroad. They dutifully wait for a tractor to pass. It’s excruciatingly slow and gives Bucky enough ammunition to get under Sam’s skin.

“I know you think I’m playing with women’s emotions but you’re no better. You’re a professional heart-breaker yourself.”

“My terms are very clear before I enter a relationship. It’s not my fault the other party always gets ahead of themselves”, Sam grits.

“See ? You treat relationships like a business transaction. Should have been the one to go to law school.”

“It works for me.”

Bucky chuckles darkly as his hand lowers to the gearshift again.

“Course it does. Cause then you don’t have to work on your trust issues. No need to be scared of abandonment when you leave people first.”

“Okay. If I knew this ride was gonna turn into ‘ _let’s pick Sam Wilson’s unhealthy relationship habits apart’_ , I would have stayed my ass home.”

“Can dish it but can’t take it ? You love to play therapist yet you can’t allow yourself happiness.”

“ _What does that mean_ ?”

There’s a silence. Then Bucky lets out a defeated sigh as he slows the pace so they can cross a covered bridge.

“I…I know why you broke up with Steve. _Why he moved out of town_.”

Sam averts his gaze then. Tries to swallow on the sudden thick lump in his throat. He’s never told anyone and thought Steve’s bruised ego will keep him from ever confessing the truth to anyone.

Steve is a good man. The best Sam has ever known. He never meant to break his heart but there is no gentle way to refuse a proposal. Even after two years, the memory still stings. Sam thinks there’s not much difference between inflicting pain and being in pain in the end.

“I didn’t want to hurt him”, Sam rasps, his hands clasped tight in his lap.

“I know.”

That’s the last thing Bucky says on the matter.

* * *

They park at the curb in front of Rhodey’s salon five minutes later than intended and although they’ve rapidly traded subjects after discussing Steve, there’s still some electricity in the air.

Rhodey is focused on braiding a woman’s hair when Bucky and Sam step inside the medically clean hair salon. It's gotten a few adjustments since the last time Sam visited, mainly the floor and the lighting. And ever since Rhodey has been dating this obnoxious but generous billionaire from New-York, Sam knows the tech has been updated for the best.

“How’s my best man doin’ ?”, Rhodey smiles, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sam.

He takes a towel to wipe his hands then politely asks one of his hairdressers to come forth and finish his work. Rhodey draws near rather quickly despite walking with a slight limp. A trace from war he’ll never lose.

Sam is greeted by a short but warm hug, Rhodey’s hand lingering on his back when they pull back. The older man greets Bucky with a firm handshake.

“James Barnes, right ? Nice to meet you. Sam rambled about you a lot.”

Bucky snorts, flicking Sam an amused glance. “Only believe six percent of what he says about me. And please, call me Bucky. James is my grandfather’s name. It makes me feel like a centennial.”

“Bucky it is then. After you, guys”, Rhodey says, gesturing at the chair on the far end of the salon. “What’s your poison ? Something wavy ? Close cropped ? Swept back ?”

“To be honest, I never really thought about it. It’s a pretty sudden decision”, Bucky says.

He shares a complicit gaze with Sam then. Rhodey raises his brows, ever the sharp sighted man but he’s tactful enough not to pick it apart. He only throws Sam a meaningful look which reads “ _We’ll have to talk about this later._ ”

“Well, going by your face shape, I’m gonna say something cool and casual will suit you. You have a strong jaw so we don’t wanna cut off too much hair that you look like an ex-prisoner”, he quips.

“As long as I can leave this place without looking like Charlie Brown, I’ll be fine”, Bucky smiles.

Rhodey makes quick work of setting up everything he needs to take care of Bucky’s hair. He tells him he’s simply gonna go for a simple but trendy look. Keep the sides and back cut short while leaving more weight and texture at the top. Bucky acquiesces with a nod and soon, the first wicks start to rain down the protection cape and down the floor.

The sharp clipping noise of the scissors is still noticeable amidst the joyous hubbub of conversations in the room.

Sam takes seat on a padded stool to watch Rhodey display how much of a hair wizard he is. He picks up the tablet lying on the workstation and proceeds to scroll through the news.

“I’ve seen your new website. It looks neat. You do online booking now ?”

Rhodey sighs. “Yeah. It was Tony’s idea actually. He’s even pushing me to get an app. That’s what happens when you date Silicon Valley guys. They try to take over your business and tell you your salon is too traditional. _Don’t date Silicon Valley guys, Sam_.”

Sam chuckles. His mirth dies down when he meets Bucky’s eyes in the mirror. A split second before Bucky averts his gaze. Sam gets a flash of their earlier conversation then.

“I don’t do the Silicon Valley type. Too much trouble”, he breathes.

“What’s your type then ?”, Rhodey smiles, though he already knows because they’ve talked about this countless times before. Sam thinks Rhodey is purposefully trying to rile him up.

Sam muses about it. “ _Athletic_. Someone who can keep up with my running. Someone who can make me laugh and has good taste in cuisine.”

“ _Not a Republican_ ”, Rhodey points.

Sam acquiesces. “No Republicans.”

“It’s a short list”, Bucky says with an unreadable tone.

“Wait until you hear the rest”, Rhodey chuckles, “I believe you said good teeth hygiene, six foot tall, nice hair and _adventurous_ , Sam.”

“And what about it ?”, Sam says, releasing the tablet to grasp a glossy magazine instead. He hopes Bucky doesn’t notice of how much he fits the description.

“When you say adventurous, do you mean ‘travel-the-globe’ kind of adventurous or ‘open-to-try-anything-in-the-sheets ?’ Cause that’s different”, Rhodey insists.

“ _Both_ ”, Sam says, not bothering to look up from the least interesting article on a starlet’s addiction for collecting piggy banks.

“Sam’s only dated saints until now. I’m even surprised to learn he enjoys the adventurous type.”

Sam stills at Bucky’s comment.

“Well, there’s fantasy and reality. The adventurous ones don’t make much good boyfriends in the long run. They get bored easily.”

Sam sees Bucky arch a skeptical brow in the glass.

“How’d you know if you never dated one ?”

“I don’t need to dive my hand into lava to know it burns, thank you.”

Rhodey senses the obvious shift in the air so he redirects the conversation onto Bucky’s preferences. Sam could kiss him for it.

“I really like redheads”, Bucky gruffs.

Sam clenches his jaw tight and keeps numb when the two other men proceed to tell each other their best and worst experiences in the dating world. Sam is thankful they keep the details to a minimum when it comes to hook ups. But his patience runs thin anyway and he stands up abruptly at the moment when Bucky reminisces about a short trip to Europe. Sam knows this story by heart now. Smoking hot redhead, a little too much alcohol on both sides and bad decisions. If Sam has to listen to one more minute of Bucky being an idiot, God knows the stupid shit that’s gonna come out of his own mouth.

“Where you goin’ ?”, Bucky asks, taking notice of Sam standing tall.

“Outside. I feel like I got ants crawling up my legs. See you guys later.”

He bows his neck then, jamming his hands in his pockets before reaching for the exit.

Since the beginning of the day, he’s been feeling crankier than usual. He’s not sure if he can keep up with that matchmaking business now. Strolls through the inner city for a few minutes before taking seat on a bench beside the road.

He takes a deep breath to pacify the jumble of his thoughts. Smiles at an impatient text from Winnie asking for an update. His phone buzzes in his hands before he can press send on a short text. Sam flicks the screen with a sigh.

“Hey, sugarpie”, he says.

“Hello, bitter biscuit”, his little sister greets, “How you doing ?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’re having the time of your life. No, really, what’s going on ? Am I bothering you ?”

“Nah. I’m just feelin’ a little cranky.”

“This is about Bucky, right ?”

“Why are you assuming Bucky right off the bat ? It’s not like my entire life revolves around this dude.”

“Weeeeeeell…”

“ _Shut up_ ”, Sam says. “How are you doing ? Keeping up well with the other pickers ?”

His sister is taking no rest this summer. She’s very passionate about going to med school but the cost is expensive so right now, she’s working as a picker in a Californian winery. Sam has offered to join with his mother to help pay the fees but Sarah blew up a fuse when he offered. And his mother didn’t feel so comfortable with his offer either. She’s been passive when Paul kicked him out of the house. From this moment on, Sam and his mother have this cordial but awkward relationship going on, where they obviously care for each other a lot but they don’t know how to love each other.

“I’m discovering muscles I never realized I had but other than that, it’s really cool. Have you seen the pictures I sent you ?”

Sam says yes. Listens to his little sister rattle her first two weeks of work. But he cannot escape her scrutiny long. She’s like a pitbull. If she has something in mind, she doesn’t take any respite.

“Now, tell me what’s going on with Buck.”

“You’re not letting that go ?”

“Hell no. Come on. Spill the tea.”

“He’s having a haircut as we speak.”

Sarah yelps so loud she nearly turns him death. Sam knows he’ll have to keep the matchmaking project to himself because she wouldn’t be able to speak without screaming then.

“He’s cutting his hair ? But why ? _It looks so good_.”

Sam shrugs. “He’s gonna look good regardless. Genetics, remember ?”

“God really has his chosen ones huh. My hair refuses to grow.”

“If you let it rest a little instead of going from box braids to box braids-“

“I said : my hair refuses to grow. We’re not talking about me anyway. Bucky loves his hair. Why would he cut it ? Oh. Don’t tell me. _He met someone_.”

It’s not entirely wrong so Sam lets that slide. “Possibly. What makes you think he cut it for someone though ?”

“Before my science teacher started dating her husband, he had this ugly ass moustache. You know the ones that look like caterpillars ? It was one just like that. She told him she didn’t like it and the next day, it was gone. Bucky must really love that person for cutting their hair for them.”

Sam picks at nonexistent lint on his jeans. He rubs his knee.

He refuses to go there. To think there’s a possibility of Bucky wanting to cut his hair for him. He’s tired of idle dreams. Bucky is not getting his haircut for Sam. He’s doing so because he believes it will turn up his sex appeal and he’s always been a vain little shit.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that. I know how much you care about him. Maybe he’s just having a fling…”

“Sarah”, he says, cutting short to her self-flagellation, “It’s fine, really. Speaking about hair, I should probably get going.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Take care, okay ? Don’t stay up too late. And tell mom I said hi.”

“ _Yes, father_ ”, she says, no doubt rolling her eyes.

When Sam comes back to the salon a few minutes later, the place has emptied of at least two clients. Bucky is nowhere to be seen, Rhodey is rigorously cleaning a clipper, and the lessening of the conversations makes the background neo acoustic soul music more distinct.

“Where’s Bucky ?”

“Taking a bathroom break. There’s still a few touches left to make the look perfectly neat but we’re close to the end.”

“Alright”, Sam says.

“He’s very handsome, isn’t he ?”

“God please, not again. Yes, Barnes is handsome. Everyone who has two eyes can see it. No need to make it a big deal out of it.

“You seem plenty able of making a big deal out of this by yourself”, Rhodey remarks as he tidies up.

Sam narrows his eyes at him but he doesn’t have the time to respond because Bucky’s broad hand suddenly settles on his shoulder. Somewhat, Sam is scared to look at him.

“Hi”, Bucky says with a honeysuckle voice. At least, it means he’s satisfied with the cut. Sam doesn’t move an inch as Bucky places his equally tall frame in front of him.

He wonders if he’ll ever be allowed to escape this man’s magic on him then. The new haircut manages to make Bucky look rugged and boyish all at once. That dimple on his chin is even more noticeable with how neatly trimmed his beard is now.

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out but a little scoff of outrage at how good Bucky looks.

“Is it not suiting me or what ?”, Bucky says, running a hand through his short and thick strands.

Sam shakes his head and bows his neck. Staring too long is a little much. Bucky looks like the kind of guy you rush to introduce to your parents. It’s almost suffocating to have the other man so close but not be able to touch.

“Nah. You look great”, he says, «Actually, this look is gonna make you more of a _trouble man_ than you already are.”

A broad grin breaks out on Bucky’s face. Sam forces another smile.

The scraping of Rhodey’s throat pulls them both out of the moment.

Bucky pats Sam’s shoulders then. “Thanks man, you were right about this. I really owe you."

Sam settles for nodding to that, staying still as he watches Bucky inching backwards. He can feel his heartbeat pulse against his ribcage, against his throat. The growing heat on his face makes his skin itch.

But most importantly, Sam feels how his shoulder buzzes from Bucky’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a girl some feedback if you enjoyed this <3 The rest of the story is already outlined but I'm gonna need all the incentive I can get.
> 
> You're also welcome to holla at me for typos/grammar as I'm not a native speaker. 
> 
> If you wanna chit chat, my tumblr is scotchandwhitelies too 💌


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